I Wish That Were Me
by Ellice Rose
Summary: Brennan decides to meet Booth right then he gets home, instead of at the coffee cart. But she as she desperately tries to find him, she worries he may never come home. B&B One-shot


I stand impatiently, tapping my foot on the concrete floor of the large room. I tightly clutch the sleeves of my blue shirt with my fingers and then release them systematically. My eyes dart from face to face though I am strangers with everybody here.

_Clutch. Release. Clutch. Release. _

The light whisper of the mass has become a booming chaos in the few minutes I've been here. People are sharing stories. Some people know each other here. They hug and ask each other questions about what they are waiting for as eagerly as I am.

Still, nobody is saying anything to me. I stand alone and try to think of what will happen. Soon, hopefully.

The white noise of the crowds is getting louder as the minutes pass by sluggishly. And every second I'm here, I start to get anxious.

Nobody made any conformation that I should even be here.

Yet, I stay. Because nothing is more important to me than what is on the other side of the double doors.

The doors taunt me. They seem to be locked in place. Or like they weigh a thousand pounds and are immobile, forbidding me from what I need so desperately. The small glass windows stay empty and silent and still.

I glance at a woman standing a few feet from me. She is tightly squeezing the hand of a small boy wearing pajamas. The mother and child have the same dark blonde hair and nose but their eyes are hazel and brilliant blue respectively. I spend a few moments figuring what the father looks like just to pass the time.

But once I have an approximate image, I lose focus and my eyes slide back to the doors.

A petite woman with dark curly hair stands beside me and says, "First time?"

I let out a harsh chuckle and nod. She places her hand on my shoulder like we've been friends forever. I glance at her hand and wonder how a complete stranger could accept me so immediately.

Within two seconds, the entire chamber grows silent. My eyes widen and I see everybody else's do the same. We look to the door expectantly.

A man wearing blue and a lot of badges comes in. He takes a spot on the opposite side of the civilians and then makes a loud grunting noise.

As if he had hit a remote, the soldiers come filing in one by one. They remain silent and face forward even though I could tell they all wanted to scan the crowd for their loved ones. I look at each face, trying to find the one I recognize. There's got to be close to sixty men and women standing in rows, wearing green.

I hope they stand like that for a while so I can find him. But as the last man comes in, I realize I didn't see him.

_He's not here?_

I begin to panic. Then rationalize. I would have been notified if he'd died. He's alive. He's here somewhere.

I want so badly to just run to the front of the mass of loved ones. I want to call him name and have him run to me. But my legs are frozen. My mouth is sewn shut. I am paralyzed with fear. I still haven't found his face.

The small boy I'd seem earlier calls out like I wish I could, "Daddy!"

He's spotted his father and the boy's mother is smiling widely.

_I wish that were me. _

The colonel smiles, hearing the boy. He clears his throat.

"I am proud of every single man, woman, and child standing in this room," the colonel starts. Still, I search, looking for his broad shoulders and square chin. None match the image in my head.

"The army life is not for the faint of heart," he continues.

Right now my heart is feeling rather faint. I start to breathe quickly, my chest pulsing up and down.

"But right now, it is four in the morning and I just want to sleep. So, without further or due, welcome home."

Applause breaks out and people start to run to eachother. I feel my pulse—everything is becoming chaotic and I have no idea where he is.

The crowd jostles me around. Not on purpose. That's just the nature of the beast.

I see a young woman run and jump into the arms of her other half. Tears pour out of her eyes and he cradles her close to his heart and whispers something in her ear.

The same scene repeats over and over and over as I look for him.

I see a man crying as his holds his baby for the first time. The baby is wearing a tiny army jacket. The mother is outwardly weeping and holding her family close.

_I wish that were me. _

But I keep searching. I franticly make my way around the base until I realize I'm seeing the same people for the second and third time.

I fall to my knees. _He isn't here. _I realize the heavy tears rolling down my face. I should feel foolish but all I can process is '_he isn't here.' _A woman whom I'd seem earlier places her hand on my shoulder and says something but it is drowned out by a roar of applause.

I leap to my feet and vigorously push my way through the throng of people. It makes it almost impossible—nobody wants to be separated from what they have just recently been rejoined with. But I still push and squeeze and thread my way to the front.

What I see stops my heart.

Two men are walking down a cleared path. People are cheering and shouting and crying. One of the men is grasping tightly to the other. His leg is bandaged and he is putting no pressure on it. And although he is obviously in a lot of pain, he pushes on searching the crowd intently. They slowly make their way seeming to head to nowhere.

Fresh rivers of tears explode from my eyes. I keep staring at the men hoping they'll turn around and see me because my voice is caught in my sobs that I'm muffling with my sleeve. My legs are weak and wobbly, yet they stand firmly where they are.

Finally the limping man's eyes find what they're looking for and he stops. He smiles widely and then falls into the arms of a beautiful blonde women. I shouldn't be crying. Correction, I shouldn't be _sobbing._ But the mixture of relief that flows over me makes my stomach clench and my heart ache.

The joy of the mass overcomes me and suddenly, my feet are moving on their own. I run down the quickly fading path that had been cleared for the injured man and his caring helper.

He must've heard me coming because just a second before I clash into him, he turns and faces me. I see the recognition in the helper's eyes as I am just two steps from him. His arms open instantly and I throw myself at him.

His arms constrict around my waist and I lace mine under his arms and onto his back. He doesn't speak. Instead he buries his face into my hair and I place my ear on his heart. We sit like that for a moment, just me and him.

After a long moment, I sink off my tippy toes and move my arms around his waist. Neither of us is crying. Instead we are just studying one another. He is tanner then he was when he left. He has a fresh pink scar on the side of his chin. But he seems different in another way. He holds himself unlike he had before. He looks like he is calmer now. More like he is just happy to be alive.

I wonder for a second if I had changed in a year. After all, it seemed like an eternity without him.

He brings his mouth to my ear, like he might kiss it and my body tenses up. But instead he whispers, "I missed you so much."

I can hear the smile in his voice and I too smile. I place my head on his chest and he wraps his arms around me again. I make a promise to myself—I will never let him leave my side again.


End file.
